BIBLIOCHEF'S READINGS AND MORE

I have been known to prefer single topic books, so when I came across a book entitled Milk by the same chap who wrote Cod and, one of my favorites, Salt, I went for it even though it was in hardback and despite not getting even a few pages into his book Paper. Yes, the author is Mark Kurlansky. The book is entitled Milk: A Ten Thousand Year Food Fracas. And I have finally finished the darn thing.

Here's what's what. On the one hand, I love single topic books that expand out into other things. I loved Curry -- for example -- by Lizzie Collingham. Subtitled A Tale of Cooks and Conquerors, Collingham's book was a wonderfully well written romp through history and the globe with clarity of thesis and more.

And, I loved Kurlansky's book Salt. And, I even like single topic cookbooks on occasion like those on corn or bacon.

And yet, this book kind of . . . failed for me. I had trouble reading it. In some ways and at some moments, it was wonderful and delightful. I loved it. At other times and in other ways, it was simply disappointing. What I liked were some of the unusual facts, the learning that I undertook, and the ways the topic was global. Frankly, I liked thinking through milk -- both about milk and through milk to other themes. And yet, I kept thinking this not a narrative or a book but a list or an unedited set of materials held together merely by the word milk. It felt like free association pretending to be something more. Once in a while the notion that there were various tensions around the topic of milk that are transhistorical and cross cultural poked its little head above the waters. But mainly, the notion that there was something holding this all together other than the word milk. . . failed for me. The flood of details would overwhelm any coherence at all. Put another way: the relation of forest and trees was not right -- the balance was off. The book was a great idea and the delivery was not as great.

Let me elaborate and illustrate and witter on for a while on themes that come to me as a result of Milk:

*Breast milk matters. And, of course, everything that we think of as milk -- well, no, not nut milks -- are breast milks. Human, cow, goat, buffalo, donkey, mare, etcetera. And, one theme that appears in multiple chapters of Kurlansky's book has to do with the yes/no to women breast feeding -- or substituting formula (defined in various ways in diverse times and places) or others' milk -- whether wet nurse or animal. From the notion that a whole new industry arose with the rise of great pumping backwards in time to bottles used to nurse in ancient Egypt and forward to controversies about the relative healthiness (or horror) of other means of feeding infants, well, you get the drift. We have not resolved the issue -- and it is one way of thinking about the culture and culture wars surrounding milk. (As are various other debates about milk as healthy or not, including the many deaths that came from contaminated milk, the need to deal with milk differently as an industrial product, and more.)

*Portable milk -- cheese, yogurt and related products from many other cultures -- matter. These too are a product of the ways milk reacts to climate (in the absence of refrigeration and etcetera) and to industrialization. The very particularities of cheeses -- associated with very particular cows or goats and the very particular places they graze(d) are now rendered terribly generic -- though the "return" of particularity is now labeled "artisanal" and more expensive. As a side note, I never thought of these forms as "portable milk" but guess they are!

*The financing of dairy is amazing. Basically, the margin for dairy production is tiny so there is pressure to have bigger herds which then has other not-so-nice consequences. The push and pull toward organic (did you know that organic cows cannot be treated for illnesses if they require antibiotics and thus must be sold off the farm or slaughtered -- and only large places can cope with having two separate herds). The relation of small to large operations also amazing.

*The relation between milk and beer across time and place has the potential to be interesting.

*A few local tidbits (for those from the Finger Lakes region): According to page 139, Ithaca NY has some claim to being the birthplace of the ice cream sundae. Who knew? And who knew how much controversy there was about that, how it came to be named, and much more. A tiny bit of upstate also appears around page 196 when Rome, NY appears as the site of early factory cheese making (associated with a chap named Jesse Williams in 1851). And, of course, there is Cornell (also in Ithaca) which features in the not-so-nice tale of rbgh (aka recombinant bovine growth hormone) which mainly led to (a) loads of dairy farms -- huge ones - elsewhere and (b) controversy about the reasonableness of this and a whole market for milk which does NOT have rBGH in it. I recommend the pages on rBGH as particularly important to understanding the impact of our corner of the world in her places in the US and beyond (See pp. 326-329).

*And I am tempted to include one sample paragraph which illustrates the oddly unedited nature of the book more generally. I suspect if this had been tightly edited it would have been a longer process of writing the book but a much better book. Instead, it reads a bit like an organized set of research notes: interesting but . . . . leaving the assimilation to someone else. See page 264 where a paragraph in a chapter on India is interrupted by a parenthetical sentence about boiled milk recipes from America. Yep, just out of the blue. The whole book is just a little like this.

So, in the end you ask: Should I buy this? Well, I wish I had not splurged for the hard cover to be honest, and wish instead I had picked it up at a local library. Am I glad I read it. Yes, of course. But am I glad I bought it? Not so much. Sorry Mark. Your name sold it. But this one is not your best.

For reflections on Kurlansky's books elsewhere on CookingwithIdeas, try here. For other folks' thoughts on Milk, try here or here.

On an impulse (she says), my partner bought me a delightful book when we were last at Ravine's. The book: Dan Barber's The Third Plate, subtitled Field Notes on the Future of Food. I read it while traveling, having held on to it for a time when I deserved a treat. And, I read it slowly.

Short review: Read this. It is smart, well written, hopeful, and intricate.

Longer review: I loved that this book began with Barber telling stories about a nearby farmer who I had reason to meet some time ago (when Alice Waters was in Seneca Falls) but that I do not know. And, I loved that my knowledge of my region grew and grew and grew. I also loved that Dan Barber writes well, including lovely sentences and lovely use of others' work. We have seen him on various documentaries (e.g., Chef's Table) and it was lovely to "meet" him again in a new way. (Here is a brief youtube related to Chef's Table.)

Longest review: Everything I wrote above is true, but requires reflection and elaboration, right? So here goes.

Let's begin with the local theme: Klaas Martens and Mary-Howell Martens are Lakeview Organic Grain. As I discovered by reading The Third Plate, their work as organic farmers began one day which might have been tragic: when spraying fields with various items one morning, Klaas discovered he could not move his arms. That day they say, was the start of their organic farming. Rather than enhancing their soils and managing their pests with chemical treatments, they began growing their soil. (For an article focused on the transition, click here.) That is, they focus on rotation crops and other strategies. (Click here for some more on this topic.) You can find them profiled on their website here, along with various others in their team. Located in Penn Yan, NY, on a farm that was his generationally (there is a longish and not always delightful family story involved here), the Martens' switch to organic and the success of their farm thereafter inspired many others around them. And, their need to vertically integrate led them to their own mill which serves many throughout the community.

But, no, Barber's book is not a profile of the Martens, though their focus on grain is why he initially looks to their work. Though focused on a close relation of farm to table, Barber is wrestling with what that means -- including which "engine" drives which and, what gets left out of such notions. One of the most ubiquitous products he uses is flour which, one day, he realizes is "dead" and has little to no taste. This leads to his ruminations -- and investigations -- into grains which takes him to Penn Yan, but also to the west coast, looking at a range of ways to move beyond industrial wheat.

Barber's ruminations are much wider, arranged as they are around the themes of. . . . . Hence, his discussions of fish and sustainability, of oceans and more. Hence his reflections on (Hudson Valley) foie gras (for a related Ted Talk click here) and on the farming they do at Blue Hill itself including the role of lambs and of pigs and of chickens. Is it possible to create foie gras without force-feeding? (At least one answer: yes.) What does one do when one impulsively serves high end food critics an unsustainable fish which "everyone" is no longer serving to try to help it make a come back? He reflects on historic heritage corn -- and the ways that heritage risks trying to preserve the past in amber (ask it were) and new varieties chosen in various ways -- in a discussion of tomatoes (and the horrifying late blight that has affected us all in upstate NY). His attention to location and to both/and seem to me to be a rich set of less rigid approaches to both dining now, cooking now, and creating a more vital future that is accessible not only to the wealthy. Barber listens -- and responds -- and seems to want to avoid simplistic responses. That is part of both his charm and his challenge,

The book is organized around the themes: soil; land; sea; seed. A reminder of the ways these interconnect, in part. A reminder of globalization. And, in each regard, a reminder that each of these is LIVING. His writing is so provocative that I ca, even now, some weeks later, imagine him standing in a trench looking at levels of soil, standing in a hotel hallway looking at huge long across depicting the roots beneath crops, and looking out from a roof onto the area of Spain from which that amazing jamon iberico comes. I know I have learned -- about the acorns those pigs eat, about the interweaving of culture and farming that creates that region, the ways that fish might be differently farmed, and more.

I have said it is well written. I have said there are sentences that moved me. I laughed on occasion and read aloud "Did you know, I asked." I recommend you read this too.

My goal now: a reservation at Blue Hill. We have been saying this for years. Really, Bibliochef: get off your duff.

And, I might read more that he has written. I know that my sense of what it means to eat and live responsibly has been affected by this book. All too rare.

And by the way, he has a website called The Third Plate. Ruth Reichl liked it. So did Al Gore. And so did I.

We wondered why Whites was called Whites. Was it about race? No: chef's whites? The color of the location of the restaurant featured in the series? Eventually, we learned: the chef's last name? White.

The restaurant might be called The White House restaurant. With no link to the one in D.C.

In any case, White is a what we used to call a television show, and I am now at a loss for what to call them. Streamed series? formerly known as television shows. It turns out it is a BBC show which aired in 2010. Starring an actor we like (Alan Davies) as the chef (who is somehow and always a bit at a loss), the show is set at a country hours hotel where he runs the restaurant. He is a bit of a mess, and leaves all too much of the running of things up to his second in command, Bib. No: not Bob.

The characters include one of my favorite ever totally daft people, unfortunately a woman, Kiki, who simply is clueless. Totally clueless. Others include a chap named Skoose who wants to be the sous chef (and is an apprentice) who is mostly a real mean ambitious type, except toward the end of the series where one gets a tiny bit of insight that he is someone other than a total. . . ass? There is also the hotel manager, the owner who is a bit on the odd side, and others who come and go.

The series is like some of the mysteries I read: a peanut. That is, it was fun to binge watch, and I am even sad that it did not last longer, but it is not something I want to re-watch. The sight of the kitchen and the food being prepared seemed genuine and the characters were set to the perfection of sitcom tension, and the evenings we spent binging were just that: fun. I might never look at an almost washed up executive chef again the same way -- nor a successful television foodie chef (who got there in nasty ways).

Watch it is you are looking to binge with no redeeming features other than the odd smile. Click here if you want to know that the actors are still peeved that it was cancelled (despite good ratings). For another perspective on the series, try this.

It was the title. Of course, it was the title. Death by Dumpling by Vivien Chien is the first foodie cozy I have bought in Barnes and Noble (right there near Wegmans in Pittsford) in a very long time. There it was, calling my name. So, I bought it -- and then in a short while, I read it. And, according to Chien's website, there is a second Noodle Shop mystery on its way soon.

But what about this first one? If you are a devoted reader of this site -- or care to wander the site categories, come across Murder on the Menu and see how many food related mysteries I have reviewed, you know I know this sub genre. I know it well. And, I have opinions about it. I am ambivalent about the punning that goes on. I prefer there to actually be a plot and do not see the inclusion of recipes as the only thing defining the sub genre. I like authors that weave more complex plots and engage in characterization better than those that . . . do not. I get a bit tired of some of the cliches that go with cozy foodie mysteries -- the amateur detective (female) always has a love interest (usually if not quite always male) who is either a sherif, a cop or otherwise a professional in related areas. And, the romance is often . . . early in the series, accompanied by self denigration on the part of the woman, who often gets into idiotic situations as a result of her curiosity, persistent effort to solve crimes, etcetera.

What I do like, of course, is the indirect way of learning about food cultures, a plot with ongoing characterization, fun side kicks, interesting settings, and more. I learn about tea from Laura Childs and coffee from Cleo Coyle (and pseudonyms from them both), for example, and am oddly fond of their series characters. I have explored Charleston and Greenwich Village with them. I like the sub genre, for the most part. So: I was excited to find this new entry to the list of authors I know.

So, what about Death by Dumpling? I thought I would learn a bit about Asian (more specifically, Chinese American) food culture (though not as much as I did from The Last Chinese Chef (reviewed here on CookingwithIdeas) which was a spectacular novel. And, I so enjoyed Murder on Bamboo Lane which challenged the sub genre by having a female (Asian American) police officer at its heart.

Of course, I especially like the sub genre when it overlaps with particular food related matters for me; in the case of dumplings I have a very fond memory of making them with a long deceased friend and her children and others. I somehow expected, I think, to participate vicariously in dumpling making. Without spoiling anything, that is not the case here as the dumplings are made out of our sight.

In any case, I bought the book -- and Death by Dumpling is, like most parts of the real world, imperfect. It is both a fun read and one that is, for me, marred by a few minor things. I love some aspects (the character Lana Lee reminds me of some children I know with similar names!) -- including the insight into Asian market plazas (though not as fleshed out as I would have liked) and that the tale was set in Cleveland (which I do not know at all, despite occasionally driving through) but, again, would like to see the place fleshed out further. Two things: the main "investigator" is young (27 I think) and sometimes that is over emphasized -- her voice seems, to be honest, annoying, despite the reality that she is smart, caring, and focused. The whining -- implied and actually present in the novel, seems a bit much. (This may be because there is an emphasis characteristic of the sub genre on failed romance. And, as with other series in the genre, there is a new love interest with all that ambiguity, in the person of a police detective.) I'd like to see Lana Lee's tone change a bit in future novels in the series. While there is the implication that she matures over the course of this installment, it doesn't really feel like that to me.

Having said that, the notion of murder by food allergy is entertaining -- and though used elsewhere -- used to good purpose here. And, the complications of parent child (and especially adult child) loyalty abound in the novel in ways that both contribute to the plot, provide "red herrings" and remind us all of the ways misunderstanding is not merely about those outside our families but all too often define our relationships inside our families as well. That Lana Lee is bi-racial adds some interest as well -- as she does wrestle with that a bit in the story.

This book qualifies as what I think of as a peanut book (no, this is not about the horrors of peanut allergies!) -- a peanut book from my perspective is a very very quick, fun, read -- a bit ore than fluffy but still a snack food!

Some time ago, my partner and I learned about a holiday tradition in Iceland: Jolabokaflod. Yep -- just what it sounds like: the annual Christmas book flood. With historical roots in WWII, the tradition seems to involve receiving -- and reading -- a book on Christmas Eve. When I learned of it, I said: I want to move to Iceland. I have not. Nor have I been there (yet). But, I have joined the imitators of Jolabokaflod. And, that makes me happy.

Without consulting one another, my partner and I exchanged books on Christmas Eve, 2017. I was less successful in my shopping than my partner, who purchased for me one of the most delightful books that I have read in a long while: Unforgettable, the book pictured above. Subtitled The Bold Flavors of Paula Wolfert's Renegade Life, the book was written by Emily Kaisen Thelin, edited by Andrea Nyugen, has photography by Eric Wolfinger, and was designed by Toni Tajima, people who care for Paula Wolfert and wanted to do with and for her something Wolfert herself had wanted to do but is now unable to accomplish -- write her own memoir. I had no idea that Wolfert has a memory loss disease -- and thus is unable to do what she is so well known and well loved for -- and my partner had no idea that we own and cook regularly from Wolfert books! Nor had I any idea how influential she was for many in the world of food today (including me!) -- or how new the notion of someone making a living by writing cookbooks was when she launched what (eventually) became her career.

The title Unforgettable captures the irony and the pain of Wolfert's memory loss for it reveals the centrality of memory to the work for which she has been known since the 1970s - traveling and making available in the US recipes from the Mediterranean world (loosely defined, beginning with Morocco and including places like ). Perhaps better put, the focus on memory is both joyous and painful. Wolfert''s memory was, apparently, widely known and widely respected. A person who could jot down a few words and then reproduce both recipes and tastes -- a memory that came along with a discernibly high order palate -- that is part of what made her career possible. She had what seems almost like an eidetic memory for food related matters. And, in fact, the diagnosis and recognition of her memory loss came as she started to find this difficult. Today, Wolfert brings her passion for research and for evidence to her own search for ways to live best with Alzheimer's -- and the book concludes not only with dietary suggestions in this regard but much more in the way of recommendations. Her active participation in various Facebook and other on line venues in a widespread community focused on memory loss is testament to her continuing wonder. The author, who is fairly frank about her own relationship with Wolfert, is clearly pained by the losses she can see in what Wolfert can remember - and also increasingly skilled at finding ways to encourage the memories that are there to some to the fore. As an occasional student of memory and religion, I was both intellectually happy reading this book -- and moved as someone who cooks.

From couscous (in the 1970s) to today, Wolfert was responsible for many transformational changes in American cuisine. Without her, no duck confit, for example. Without her, no American foie gras. Did you know D'Artagnan was founded by a woman? No, not by Wolfert but as an indirect consequence of Wolfert. Without her -- many of the food items we can find in the grocery store would never have been imported -- they were inaccessible or only accessible from a single importer in the US when Wolfert introduced recipes requiring them -- int eh back of her cookbooks, Wolfert referred readers to various means of importing things that I can find in Wegmans today. In fact, she affected the careers of people who themselves then became importers. (yes, D'Artagnan but others before -- and after -- that!) She published the first (very extensive) recipe for cassoulet. I might make it. Pomegranate molasses -- Wolfert. Yes, I own it and cook with it and when desperate have made it from scratch. And, truly, couscous -- not in its instant form, of course, which I am banned from serving at our house because my couscous period truly over did it. Without Wolfert, tajines would not be . . . here. Without her -- well, who knows what we would be eating!

The book is amazing. In fact, I have a feeling the book is as amazing as Wolfert herself. It is a testament to love of Wolfert, to the uniqueness of how she approached and created a career writing cookbooks, and to people who care for her and have been influenced by her. It is a testament to her reach, to the weaving together of who Wolfert is and was with what she brought -- in a somewhat more than hypothetical way -- to our tables. A life long eye issue shaped her approaches (and her personality). Somehow the phrase honey and vinegar comes to mind. How, I asked as I read along, could such a renowned cookbook author avoid knives for much of her career? And, how could someone with such personality extremes be so effective at meeting and learning from women (most often) across the world, persuading them to give her recipes often held very private in various ways in various parts of the world? Did she, I asked myself, create the notion of the culinary anthropologist?!?!? She -- and others like her -- certainly made possible my own, more lazy (or at least more travel averse) culinary tourism.

Both the content and form of the book are wonderful -- filled as it is with lovely pictures and truly approachable and well written narrative. The team that put this together accomplished a lot. The recipes represent the range of Wolfert's career -- including some that have a "cult" following. I rarely say this: I look forward to cooking some of the recipes -- and to revisiting some of the ones I have cooked of hers over the years. In fact, we had a trout with eggplant and pomegranate molasses dish during the holiday season just because I had started reading Unforgettable. (That recipe is in The Cooking of the Eastern Mediterranean by Paula Wolfert.

Here is a book that makes evident why one might want to know about the cookbook author as well as the recipes. The life and the recipes go together somehow and knowing that seasons the recipes newly in my imagination. This seems to e to be a book to which I will return multiple times -- for the irony, the joy and the pain.

A renegade life -- one that truly starts with the beats and moves on -- defined by an early decision to go to Tangier when it was the hotbed of beat life -- well, that was just the start of a life time of choices that were both creative and defining of the world in which she lived and consequentially the world in which we live! Various bits of the decades of her life weave together one life with the lives of movements (the Beats, and beyond) -- and the ways our food culture has become differently global since those days.

Some time ago I wrote: I met Alice Waters. I wrote that with glee, having the opportunity to meet her when she was inducted into the National Women's Hall of Fame. In fact, I brought her a tomato from Fellenz Family Farms, which she seemed to carry with her various places during that weekend. From our CSA to her hands. . . . (I wish she had had the opportunity to try some of the more farm to table restaurants in the area -- and hope that she will come to the region again to do something. But meanwhile. . . )

In any case, I had her sign a cookbook I have owned for years despite the fact that the memoir pictured above was just out. She herself wanted folks to focus on her cookbooks not this memoir. But, my partner purchased the memoir for me. It was misplaced for a while in the house -- hiding in plain sight among other books -- and just surfaced. Hence this review.

The book is the memoir of a shy person, I think. It was a fast read -- though not, in some ways a deep read. If forced to a short statement about it I would say: this is a book that belies the complexity of its subject just as, perhaps, the simplicity of the recipes in some of Waters' cookbooks belies the amazing tastes that can come from truly making those dishes with the best ingredients and loads of patience. Subtitled "The Making of Countercultural Cook," there is some Berkeley name dropping in the book -- and some foodie name dropping later -- but the main theme seems to be that she was not as into politics directly (though Waters was at some of the main demonstrations) but now, on reflection, sees her eventual position on food as born in those heady days. For Waters, the countercultural was in part a free love kind of approach but also about creating together with others a new culture. And, indeed, she eventually did.

I have to admit, this was not my favorite food-related memoir like book this season (eventually I will get to Unforgettable which is about Paula Wolfert -- and that book blew me away). Am I glad I read it? Yes, most definitely -- and grateful to have met her. But this is, indeed, a book by a shy person. And, like many shy people -- there is an odd relation between what they let you see and who they may in some deeper sense be. I imagine Waters as someone with the gift of friendship and remain a bit jealous of those who truly get to know her -- cooking with her, eating with her, smiling with her. Meanwhile, a quick trip down memory lane is what she has provided here. She says she is not a reflective person. Your turn to judge!

And, as you do, you will join a lot of readers as the book debuted at No 13 in the NY Times best seller list. The name carries weight. The book, less so. And yet, as Waters says that beauty is crucial to care, reflection matters as well. My guess -- she is more reflective than she lets on here.

It has been a while since I posted about a food-related film. And, my partner kindly chose one that she thought I would like -- and as always, she was right! The film? Eastside Sushi, a 2015 release. I recommend it -- as a lazy binging foodie film.

The film is ostensibly set in Oakland, and features an array of actors and visuals of the city. The plot focuses on a young single mother, living with her father and her child, who is struggling to survive economically. While she has various jobs during the film, including cleaning gym equipment, for example, she is also a cook/chef with aspirations which are (seemingly) limited by her gender (women do not do XYZ) and her ethnicity: she is Mexican American. The pressure comes from various directions: her father wants her to focus on Mexican cuisine (despite his own low income job and SPOILER her experience of being robbed running his fruit cart) and she does not. Likewise, others expect her to focus on Mexican cuisine and the Japanese owner of the sushi restaurant she eventually joins is not in favor of either women or mexican american sushi chefs. (That it is not simply about Japanese is made evident by the presence of Korean and Chinese sushi chefs.) .

As already leaked above, over the course of the film, Juana obtains a job in a sushi kitchen, and . . . . falls in love with a cuisine that she was not originally knowledgeable about. The details are less important -- and might spoil more of the film -- but two are worth noting: (a) a white (anglo) customer seems very clearly to define authenticity in a restaurant as about who -- the ethnicity - is doing the sushi preparation; so, authenticity is a key theme of the film. And, a second theme is an axiom her father offers (eventually): don't beat them at their game, beat them at your game. I like this axiom. Change the parameters and make it your game is what I heard.

What else: the sushi is beautiful, the knife skills are wonderful, and there is a little "insight" into ethnic differences which does not focus on whiteness. YEs -- not a film focused on whiteness! Also, though there is a light romantic theme and a child involved, the film does not get saccharine nor is it utter;y predictable

I am thrilled that the blog is back in a significant enough way that I am starting, once again, to receive free books. And, I am even more thrilled that I have received a cookbook right when I am starting to read cookbooks again -- I had kind of stalled on that while living in Chicago -- and between that and the decline in my cooking itself, well. . . suffice it to say it is good to be back. And I love getting free stuff! As you likely know, one way publishers get attention to their books is offering them to bloggers with the hope of a mention. And, as my disclaimers say, I am always up front about how I obtain a book!

The Pioneer Woman Cooks: Come and Get It! is not a cookbook I would be likely to buy in a bookstore. Ree Drummond has produced a book that is filled with colorful pictures, and takes an approach which is very evident on the cover itself where it also reads: simple, scrumptious recipes for crazy busy lives. What she provides focuses on exactly that: what to have in the pantry and fridge, freezer and more that will enable you to put together a dandy meal quickly. The recipes range from flatbreads and chili to more formal meal offerings, across breakfast, lunch, dinner and smacks, and includes -- have I said it -- as well as appetizers and desserts. Interspersed with the recipes: tales of Drummond's life and family in their country life. Given the short reading attention span of many, the interspersing is done well -- kind of overly enthusiastic from my point of view but then, Drummond has multiple cookbooks out and started her blog, The Pioneer Woman in the same year I started this. (Yes, that makes me feel just a it jealous.) Her approach is well branded and for those for whom her zest is appealing -- successful

I would -- as I have said -- not be likely to buy this. But it did give me more than a chuckle and a rueful moment of reflection on how she has monetized her blog into. . . a well branded industry! And, I suspect that what she serves, both in store and at home, is tasty, fun and upbeat. Certainly her website is both!

Winter seems to be a time for stew. And, I do not just mean that I am stewing in my juices, noodling on the same thing, perseverating. I mean braising, and more. So, today, I thought I would share with you a few notions about stews -- and a few books from my bookshelves holding cookbooks that focus on stews and their equivalents from various cultures.

All this began with Saveur. One of the emails I received had a link to a soup -- or stew -- called Guatamalen Turkey Soup. On a whim, I made it -- and wow was it good. So good that I intend to make it again.It is, apparently, called Kak-ik. Here's the recipe at the Saver site. Did I do anything differently? Well, I only used 2 turkey legs. And, I left out the achiote as I could not find it in the (very messy) spice cabinet. The picture at the top of this reflection comes from the Saver picture accompanying the article. Mine was a tad greener due to the absence of the achiote.

Did I like it? Yes. There was a tartness to it that was delightful and the turkey was well braised. Yes, indeed -- I not only liked this but I intend to make it again. You should try it!

This endeavor -- combined with a certain seasonal lassitude inclining me to hide under the covers and peruse cookbooks leads me to point to the following cookbooks focused on stews:

Stews, Bogs & Burgoos: Recipes from the Great American Stewpot is authored by James Villas and has been sitting on my cookbook shelf since the 1980s. I have been unable to dispose of it -- for some reason I have an odd affection for it, even though I have rarely -- if ever -- cooked from it. It might be the title with the synonyms for stew that point to great regional variety and thus to possibilities. It might be the back cover which points to various additional synonyms: mull, ragout, coolant, fricassee gumbo, kettle and expends the effort to define bog and burgoo. It is not because of any fondness for James Villas, though I just spent some time investigating him and his work - despite the difficulty that his last name gets regularly confused with villas as in vacation homes of various sorts.

Browsing the book reminds me of the warm smells of something cooking for a long time in the house -- beef stews or. . . well, you get my drift.

And then I found a second stew book on my shelf. Remember when buying Williams Sonoma cookbooks from their "reference library" seemed like a good idea? I bought Stews. A few things to say on this? Well, first I do not think I would buy from this series again (I have a few) -- not because they are not worthwhile but because they are just no longer my style. I prefer things messier and more. . . substantive? Less bland?

Which takes me to Latin Ladles, subtitled fabulous soups & stews from the king of Nuevo Latino cuisine, and authored by that self-same king: Douglas Rodriguez. I own another cookbook by Rodriguez and that is what inspired this purchase some years ago. And yet, this one has not really been used. What I did discover is this: there are still ingredients I have never heard of and certainly never cooked with. And, I may, in fact, make tomatillo cauliflower soup. I am inspired by the Guatemalan soup's use of tomatillos. And, the cauliflower/tomatillo combination sounds delicious and (yes, this is a somewhat run on sentence) -- there are no ingredients I have never heard of. That adventure will have to come later!

As promised quite some time ago, some reflections on What She Ate by Laura Shapiro. . . . a book that follows after several by Shapiro I have reviewed here on Cooking with Ideas.

Imagine a select few women from across history. Imagine that you can get to know them only by reading about them in archives and books -- and that you are able to get to know what they ate, what they cooked, and whatever they wrote about food. At minimum, you can find comments distributed here and here in their letters saying "I had this for dinner" or, perhaps more fully described entries in a diary or. . . Would you be willing to say that the food "tells their stories"? Would you have gotten to know something important about them by learning about their relations to food, the stories of their food lives?

Laura Shapiro answers this question in What She Ate. Shapiro says, yes. That is, she chooses to undertake the effort to get to know 6 women through what can be found about their relation to food.

Who is Dorothy Wordsworth? Well, you likely have heard of her brother, the poet? The Lake Poet? William Wordsworth? If you have, you may have heard of her. Or not. She is his sister and was devoted to him (apparently) for years and years. And, her relation to the poet is expressed in part through her relation to the feeding (and care) of that poet across a life time (ending, or trailing off, as William gets married).

Rosa Lewis is, I think, the woman in the list you are most likely to have heard of only if you are a foodie. Sure, if you are or were a Duchess of Duke Street fan, you have seen her fictionalized. A caterer with working class background, Lewis rose to serve kings and many other elite members of the British aristocracy and owned the Cavendish Hotel. I think I might find her an interesting person to encounter -- at least once. The reflections here include what feels like her descent after WWI into a kind of caricature of herself.

Eleanor Roosevelt seems to be having a resurgence in popularity or am I just imagining it? Some time ago I read a novel by Susan Witting Albert retitled Loving Eleanor which focused on her relationship with Lorena HIckock. Yes, food appeared -- in many ways similar to those noted by Shapiro. I have to admit I always enjoy Albert's books (mostly those focused on food and herbs featuring China Bayles) and enjoyed this one as a change of pace. But I digress. (If you wish more digression, here is Laura Shapiro some years ago on Roosevelt and food.)

Eva Braun was a name vaguely familiar to me, but in that vagueness I was wrong. She was the mistress (and eventually briefly the wife?) of HItler. Given today's horrifying resurgence of Nazis in the U.S. or all over the globe, it particularly horrified me to read about her. I wondered (in the back of my mind) and worried (perhaps just a tad more toward the front of my mind?) whether some readers would be honoring her and that vegetarian horror, his other followers and the vicious inhumanity that is Nazi ideology and action. I hope not. (For a bit on Eva Braun and food, involving Shapiro, click here.)

Barbara Pym was and is another name I vaguely knew about but have never read. Yes, the novelist -- and no I have not read her work. I have no more desire to read her work having read about her than previously when I had not read about her.

And last but not least: Helen Gurley Brown. Here we come again to a name I knew but about whom I knew little other than a kind of stereotype. Yes, I associated her with a variant on sexism and with Cosmopolitan. (IN this case, of course, I mean the magazine she edited for over three decades, not the drink, which I have a vague notion is named after the magazine?)

Maybe this stereotyping or perhaps a better word is caricaturing by knowing just a tiny tiny bit about someone, is what Shapiro is trying to resist in the book? Certainly, the women come across as somewhat more human, though equally distant, to this reader. Once in a while, I asked myself whether this was a kind of gossip-y book on Shapiro's part. I think not, but I am not sure of my judgment.

One more matter: the subtitle of this book is 6 remarkable women and the food that tells their stories. I am wondering about the significance of the word remarkable here. In some ways, the focus on food renders these historical figures less remarkable - and reminds us of the ways they are "just like us" or, at least, just like others of their eras. Perhaps? On the other hand, they are "famous" -- in various ways.

And, Shapiro's afterword is telling: she writes of "all the food stories that will never be told." I like this. I think there is, indeed, an everyday-ness that is lost in many ways, once held in cookbooks and memories and diaries and letters and elsewhere (now perhaps even in blogs that are both living and long abandoned?).

I did not find this list of women very satisfying, I have to admit. I neither liked them nor felt I learned much about those I knew anything about. Ok, I admit the chapter on Dorothy was engaging. But, to be honest, either I am not all that interested in reading more "snippets" and want more depth OR I was not persuaded of Shapiro's thesis this time (of the particular insight provided by looking at what they had to say and write about food) OR I am just bored and carried that into the book. Or, perhaps, the lives we all lead are more routine than we want to admit and our food foibles, while shaped by our era, not that much to write home about.

It might be that the range of people -- this list of these six remarkable women -- was just not my cup of tea. I am not sure who would be more interesting. I am not sure if it is a kind of ennui taking over my world or a lassitude that I cannot identify or. . . if it is just a duller book than Shapiro wants it to me. And, a duller book than I wanted it to be when I chose it, along with Alice Waters' new memoir, at Talking Leaves Books in Buffalo.

And you? If you could imagine finding six women to investigate in terms of their relation to food, who would you choose? Are you persuaded that you could learn something significant about them by investigating their relation to food? Would you invite them to dinner -- in your imagination?

Are you, too, unsure and feeling that peculiar ennui?

If you want more:

For a review of Shapiro's book in the Washington Post by blogger Jennifer Reese of the Tipsy Baker, try here. I have to admit I found Reese's first sentence absolutely reassuring and . . . yes. I did not, though, read the book with as much alacrity as Reese. For an NPR interview with the author, try here. And, for a blog interview try here.